


sparks of light

by moorglade



Series: between two mirrors is a life lived in parallel [4]
Category: Cycling RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No COVID, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dishwashing Does Not Happen, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Gen, Living Together, New Year's Fluff, Tagged as both gen and ship because you can read it either way, take your pick of whether they're close bffs or in a qpr or banging continually offscreen, whatever you see their relationship as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26562364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moorglade/pseuds/moorglade
Summary: 2020 slipped away to where past years went.
Relationships: Romain Bardet & Warren Barguil, Romain Bardet/Warren Barguil
Series: between two mirrors is a life lived in parallel [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806787
Kudos: 3





	sparks of light

Romain was loading the dishwasher and thinking about leftovers when he heard Warren cry out. Banging his elbow on the open door of the cupboard above, he swore under his breath and ran upstairs to the darkened living room. 

“Look, fireworks!” Warren said. 

Romain rolled his eyes and rubbed at his arm, although it was too dark for Warren to see. “I banged my elbow for this.” 

“You don't want to miss fireworks!” Warren said, as though that were self-evident. “Come here and look.” 

“I banged my _elbow_ ,” Romain protested, unable to keep a teasing tone from creeping into his voice as he walked over. 

“A wounded warrior,” Warren said, and Romain could hear his smile. “Where does it hurt?” 

“Here,” Romain said, taking his hand and guiding it to the bruise. “What's the prognosis, doctor?” 

“Hmm,” Warren said, his fingers warm as he gently traced across it. “I think you'll be fine without needing any major surgery.” 

“I'm relieved to hear it,” Romain said, settling comfortably on the couch and putting an arm round him. “You know, I never actually started the dishwasher. If we don't do it tonight we're all out of coffee cups.” 

“It'll wait,” Warren said, swinging his legs up onto the couch so he could lean against Romain. “It's New Year's Eve; worst case we'll use dishes tomorrow.” 

“You are a complete animal,” Romain said with immense fondness. “We are not starting 2021 by drinking _dishes of coffee_.” 

“It could be a dessert,” Warren countered. 

“Not for breakfast, it couldn't,” Romain said. “Just don't let me forget to put it on before we go to bed.” 

The living room window looked out over the sea back towards the mainland. On their side of the water all was darkness, although the beam of the automated lighthouse swept out across the waves. Directly ahead was the village, and Romain could see the soft flicker of car headlights merging with the glow of lighted windows, and even a faint twinkle from the big Christmas tree down by the docks. Scattered across the water were the flashes of the various buoys marking out the safe channel, and further along the coast the town was an indistinct glitter. 

In the dark sky the stars hung as brightly as lamps themselves, and all along the clifftops tiny sparkles in the colours of a thousand rainbows were beginning to appear. It was so beautiful it brought a lump to Romain's throat. 

“I love the start of a new year,” Warren murmured. “New start, new everything.” 

“2020 wasn't _too_ bad,” Romain said with the shadow of a smile. He'd achieved more than he'd ever dreamed possible, and turned his life completely upside down, and he was still coming to terms with both of those things. Warren had always been the rock he'd built his world around, and that wouldn't change, but he owed a huge debt to Arkéa and their sports psychologist too. Romain might never be the rider he could've been, had he not gone through all those years where he'd been crushed by expectations, but he was beginning to set his own goals, and to define his success not simply by his results on the bike. 

It was a scary, and Romain suspected, probably long-term process. But the important thing was that he'd accepted where he _was_ , and begun moving forwards from there. There was still so much he had to do, but he was learning and growing again, not merely failing to clear the same bar year after year after year. 

“It had its moments,” Warren agreed. “But next year's going to be even better. We're going to have a rebuilding year.” 

“What are we rebuilding?” Romain said, yawning suddenly. 

“Life,” Warren said. “Well, not _us;_ I don't mean that. The work version of us, maybe, and how to fit that properly in its place alongside everything else.” 

“We're getting old,” Romain said, yawning again. 

“You are, maybe,” Warren retorted fondly. “I was all for going out again tonight.” 

“You're going to be thirty this year too, you know,” Romain said. 

“Thirty is _not_ old,” said Warren, like someone who hadn't been teasing Romain mercilessly for two months about practically being a senior. “You're just old at heart. Look at Valverde – I bet he's dancing on a table right now with a bottle of champagne in each hand.” 

“Ah, the pinnacle of youthfulness,” Romain said dryly. “There's some in the fridge if you want to go and dance with it. Although preferably not on the table, because it's still half covered with things which need to go in the dishwasher. Which if you _are_ going down to the kitchen – ” 

“I'm providing care and succour to the elderly,” Warren said without moving. “You know, they started really early this year. It's only half eleven.” 

“No point having all the fireworks when everyone's too wasted to appreciate them,” Romain said with another yawn. “Besides, there'll be people with kids who aren't going to want to party all night.” 

“You are _such_ an old man,” Warren said. “Not even midnight and you're already half asleep.” 

“I don't doubt you'll wake me up when it gets here,” Romain said. “Probably by shrieking so I'll think you're being murdered.” 

“I don't _shriek_ ,” Warren said with immense dignity. “It's your failing ears I'm thinking of. They say a clear high pitched tone gets through when all the rest sounds like mumbling.” 

“Do they,” Romain said, starting to laugh. “What a year it's been, though. Wasn't last year a bit of a rebuilding year?” 

“Not exactly,” Warren said, after giving it a few minutes thought. “Last year was like having surgery. Remember when I broke my wrist in the crash?” 

“Yeah,” Romain said with a shudder. They'd both had too many crashes to count, and Warren particularly had begun to make a habit out of breaking his bones, but there would only ever be one _the_ crash. 

“No, I didn't mean you to get all sad about it,” Warren said, shaking him gently. “Particularly if I'm not! Yes, it was horrible, but that was a long time ago and this is now, and I'm _fine_. What I was going to say was that last year was like the surgery – going in and doing more damage in the short term, but for the right reasons, so everything heals up properly. But a rebuilding year is more like doing the physio afterwards.” 

“Huh,” Romain said, but he couldn't help pulling Warren a bit closer. 

“Silly,” Warren said tenderly, turning round on the couch and managing to knee Romain in the stomach. 

By the time Romain had got his breath back, and Warren had stopped laughing, it was almost midnight. After a lull the fireworks had sparked into new life again, as 2020 slipped away to the place where past years went. 

“I love New Year's,” Warren said. “Look at them now! Isn't it worth being known as those two weirdos who live on the island for this?” 

“Well,” Romain temporised. He was rather less content with their reputation for eccentricity than Warren was, but their view was undeniably spectacular. 

“Happy New Year,” Warren murmured, warm and comfortable in Romain's arms. “What are you going to wish for, then?” 

Right at that moment Romain's heart was full, and he was content. There was nothing he needed more than he already had, and he knew himself to be blessed beyond measure. But as usual he couldn't find a way to put that into words, so for a moment he held Warren extra closely, then settled on, “champagne.” 

“I'm told,” Warren said, swinging his feet off the couch, although thankfully without injuring Romain any further, “that there's some in the fridge.” 

“There are even glasses,” Romain said, “assuming some animal doesn't intend to start the year by drinking it out of a dish.” 

“I'll restrain myself,” Warren said earnestly. “For your sake. It's hard to resist, but – ” 

“Come on, then,” Romain said, letting himself be pulled to his feet. “Let's drink to a new year. And while we're there, I'm going to finish loading the dishwasher.” 


End file.
